Chick Parties

I'm not a fan of chick parties.  You know, those parties women invite you to because "It will be fun!"  (Yeah.  Not so much.)  Baby showers, wedding showers, parties where you have the opportunity to buy expensive kitchen gadgets, etc. are just a few of the many chick parties I've been a part of over the years. 

A girlfriend of mine once invited me to a Pampered Chef (PC) party that her sister was hosting. She knew that sort of thing was not my bag, but she urged me to come so that there would be a good turnout for her sister's first time promoting those products.  I reluctantly agreed.  (I'm nothing if not a good friend!)

In case you aren't familiar with PC "parties" (I find that they use that term far too loosely), they are gatherings where someone shows you how to use all kinds of neat kitchen gadgets and cookware then gives you the opportunity to purchase the items.  Typically, women gather to see the products and eat snacks prepared by using the products.

I didn't know most of the women there, but soon everyone was seated in the living room.  The hostess asked us to go around the room and introduce ourselves.  (But wait.... There's more!) Then, we were asked to share our personal experiences with PC products.  Shit.

I looked at my friend and she gave me one of those, "Sorry!" looks that only a good friend who has just screwed up your evening can give you.

When it got around to me, I was about to say, "My name is Kris.  I'm an alcoholic and I'm at the wrong meeting," then politely excuse myself.  But, my friend stared me down, visually begging me to play nice.  Shit.

It was soon clear that I was the only person in attendance taking this event so lightly.  These ladies were hard core.  Apparently, to many of them, a PC party was part rave and part revival.  A couple of hours outside the house and rolling in the joy of elite cookery was da bomb.  I was afraid they were going to ask me to drink some magic Kool-Aid before the evening was over.

I will never forget one chick who told her story....

"Hi!  My name is Betty Sue," (not her real name because while I will never forget her, I can't remember her name for shit) "and I LOVE Pampered Chef products!!!"

Damnmit Betty Sue....  You're killing me! 

"I love, love, LOVE the apple peeler!  It is the BEST!  Oh my goodness!  I use it ALL. THE. TIME."  Betty Sue's exuberance for all things PC was like nothing I have ever seen.  I honestly thought she was going to orgasm while extolling the virtues of that apple peeler.   "It removes the entire peel in ONE STRIP!"  Holy shit! Anyone got a cigarette for Betty Sue???

I'd never seen anyone so excited about an apple peeler.  I wanted to ask, "How many damn apples do you have to peel at your house Betty Sue???"  I wondered if perhaps "apple peeler" was a euphemism for a more personal "gadget." 

Hell, by the time she was finished, I was wondering how I'd made it so many years without a $50 apple peeler.  If it provided me the same satisfaction Betty Sue got from it, damn, I was ready to buy a couple of them.

Thankfully, I snapped out of the trance in time to escape this "party" with only a few, less expensive gadgets.  However useful, I can honestly say that none of them have inspired any type of out-of-body-orgasmic-experience even close to what Betty Sue described.

Sometimes when the Hubs is traveling, I think that maybe I should've bought that apple peeler....